Mercy (31 page)

Julie had Trevor do some additional research. “Made in Canada and Australia, the four-seat aircraft is considered a first choice for discerning pilots.” At $184,000, one would have to be very discerning. Trevor searched for flight plans on a Web site called FlightAware. There were none, though he soon discovered that flight plans were not required for private planes.

Julie’s disappointment was short-lived.

“When there’s cloud cover he would have to fly IFR, and that requires him by law to file a flight plan,” Trevor said, reading a Web page on the topic.

“You’re brilliant,” Julie said, ruffling his hair.

The forecast for the weekend was overcast, so in the morning Julie asked Trevor to do the search again. Bingo. Dr. Coffey planned a flight from Beverly to Providence, Rhode Island, and back to Beverly again. He would be landing at 11:30 in the morning.

Julie had contemplated surprising Dr. Coffey at his Marblehead home, but what she wanted was neutral territory. She worried that he would see her questions as threatening. If Dr. Coffey were involved in some kind of cover-up, a conspiracy of some sort, he might act erratically, might claim self-defense when the police arrived to find Julie’s lifeless body in the same gruesome state as Sherri Platt’s.

How hives and rare heart attacks in healthy hearts could be tied to Dr. Coffey and William Colchester, to Brandon Stahl’s murder conviction, and to the deaths of Tommy Grasso and Sam Talbot, Julie could not begin to fathom. Lucy’s findings were inconclusive. Becca, whom Lucy claimed possessed a steel-trap memory, recalled Sam’s pathology slide as showing an allergic reaction, but the actual slide showed nothing of the kind. Julie could not explain the discrepancy, just as Brandon Stahl could not explain how morphine ended up in his apartment.

Julie and Trevor arrived in plenty of time to find parking and to get settled in the small airport’s lounge. Through a bank of tall picture windows, Julie watched Dr. Coffey’s D40 descend from the overcast sky, appearing almost to the minute of when he was scheduled to land. Trevor’s expression was priceless. He had figured out where Dr. Coffey would be, and seeing his theory prove out made him beam with delight. Julie hugged her son to her body and kissed the top of his head.

“Good work, sweetheart,” she said. “Now when he shows up, I want you to wait over by the Coke machine. This has to be a private conversation.”

The lounge area was a spacious room with navigation maps on the wall, a few vending machines, some tables and chairs, and not much else. A few minutes after he landed, Dr. Coffey entered the lounge looking every bit the pilot. He had on a brown leather jacket and gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses, which he wore despite the cloud cover. Every one of his silver hairs looked perfectly placed. He walked with purposeful strides until he came to a hard stop the moment he realized the figure in the middle of the lounge was Julie. He exchanged his sunglasses for his other spectacles, the ones made of black plastic with thick lenses, the ones that magnified his surprised eyes.

“Dr. Devereux, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Dr. Coffey, what a funny surprise.”

Judging by Dr. Coffey’s glower, he found nothing funny about it.

“You know, I was thinking about you. Thinking there must be something wrong with my phone,” Julie said. “I called you a number of times and e-mailed as well, but never got a response. Lucky for me I bumped into you, in the airport of all places. Was that you who just landed? Beautiful plane.”

“It was. But again, what are you doing here?” Dr. Coffey’s voice had the edge of an ax.

Julie pointed to Trevor. “My son is an aspiring pilot. He likes to come and watch the planes land.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you here before,” Dr. Coffey said.

“We go to different airports,” Julie said without hesitating.

Dr. Coffey glanced at his expensive wristwatch.

“I’m afraid I’m in a rush, Julie,” he said. “It’s nice to see you. Best to your boy.”

Dr. Coffey walked past her, but Julie reached out and gently took hold of his arm.

The doctor whirled on his heels, his cheeks reddening while his nostrils flared like those of an angry bull.

“Oh, no worries, I’m in a hurry, too,” Julie said in a calm voice. “This won’t take but a minute.”

“Perhaps another time,” Dr. Coffey said.

“I just want to know if you had anything to do with my no longer having access to Donald Colchester’s medical record?”

Dr. Coffey’s lips were closed, his expression serious. “Why on earth would you ask me something like that?”

“I gave you my copy of Colchester’s file and the next thing I know, I don’t have access to the electronic version. I’m just curious. Do you know anything about that?”

“That—that—has nothing to do with me, I assure you.”

Julie took note of Dr. Coffey’s brief stutter. But she studied his body language a moment, and decided he was a better liar than poor Sherri Platt.

“I would like to have the file back, if I may,” Julie said.

Dr. Coffey shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. I shredded those documents after you left. There was no reason for me to keep them.”

“I guess you didn’t realize I wouldn’t be able to access them again.”

“To be honest, none of this is really my concern.”

Julie caught a nervous glance from Trevor. He could tell this conversation was tense, and conflict, especially in the wake of his parents’ divorce, was something he worked hard to avoid.

“Let me ask you something medical, if I may.”

Dr. Coffey sighed aloud. “If you must.”

“What kind of allergic reaction could cause a heart attack?”

The sneer on Dr. Coffey’s face was meant to intimidate.

“I would think you would know a life-threatening manifestation of allergic disease is usually the result of anaphylaxis.” He eyed Julie a little darkly. “You’re not back on the takotsubo bandwagon, are you?”

“Something like it,” Julie said. “Of course, my first thought was of anaphylaxis, but what I was looking for was an allergic reaction similar to takotsubo.”

“And I asked you to let that go.”

“Allow me, if you will, to share a little something I found out. You see, I may have graduated from a state medical school, but even I know how to do a Google search. And do you know what you get when you search ‘allergic reaction similar to takotsubo,’ those exact words? You get a link to Kounis syndrome.”

Dr. Coffey folded his arms as if to say he found Julie’s revelation and investigation a personal affront.

“Kounis syndrome,” Julie continued. “Allergic angina, allergic myocardial infarction—I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

“No, you’re not.”

“So in your professional opinion, could Kounis syndrome be misdiagnosed as takotsubo?”

Dr. Coffey pondered the question in a thoughtful manner. “I guess it’s possible.”

“Type one Kounis syndrome is an acute allergic event found in patients without predisposing factors for coronary artery disease. That sort of coronary artery spasm could cause apical ballooning in the left ventricle, could it or could it not?”

“Am I on the witness stand, Dr. Devereux?” Dr. Coffey gave a tight-lipped smile.

“It’s just a question,” Julie said.

“Sure. Why not. You seem to have all the answers. What do you need me for, anyway?”

“What if the allergen didn’t show on the pathology slide?”

Exasperation now from Dr. Coffey. “Then I’d say the lab tech screwed up the stain, or someone switched the slide.”

The twinkle in Dr. Coffey’s eyes made Julie uneasy.
Someone switched the slide.
Her thoughts went whirling.
Could it be possible?
If someone did that, could they also have planted morphine in Brandon’s apartment? Bribed Sherri Platt into testifying to ensure a conviction? If so, what was being covered up, and what was Dr. Coffey’s part?
Why would he even plant the suggestion that someone switched the slide?
Julie wondered. Overconfidence, she thought. Perhaps he considered her an unworthy adversary. He got a rush flying planes; maybe he was addicted to risks, like a criminal who left clues for the cops trying to catch him.

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to go home now,” Dr. Coffey said. “I had a great flight, and I don’t want anything to spoil what has been until this moment a terrific day.”

Julie returned a wan smile. “I’m wondering if you know of any drug that could cause a Kounis syndrome reaction? Something that might have a connection to, I don’t know—hives.”

Julie held a breath. This was the moment. This was why she wanted to confront him in person. How would he react? What would he do or say?

A defense lawyer could not have coached a better facial expression. Dr. Coffey was stoic, utterly emotionless. He shook his head to show his disbelief.

“You can’t let this go, can you?” he said in a harsh voice. “I’ve seen you all over the news. Everywhere you go, Julie, bad things seem to follow. Why don’t you just leave this one alone?” Dr. Coffey looked over his shoulder at Julie’s son, and held his gaze long enough for Trevor to shrink under the weight of his stare. “For everyone’s sake, just leave this alone and move on with your life.”

“I can’t do that,” Julie said.

Dr. Coffey shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way. But if you confront me like this again, I will report you to the Mass Medical Board for erratic behavior and have your license pulled faster than I landed that plane. That’s a promise. You have a nice day.”

Dr. Coffey exchanged his regular glasses for his aviator sunglasses and marched away without looking back.

*   *   *

LINCOLN COLE
watched as Julie and Trevor walked from the airport lounge to her Prius, parked in the public lot not far from his sedan. He called his employer and relayed the conversation as he remembered it. Some of the medical jargon was a bit much, but Lincoln had a good enough grasp to convey the key points. His level of knowledge might have been on a need-to-know basis, but Lincoln was right in thinking what he overheard meant big trouble for his employer.

“This has to be handled.”

“Sherri Platt handled?” Lincoln asked.

“Yes. But we need discretion.”

“Not another national media story?”

“That would be preferable.”

“I happen to know Julie is taking Jordan Cobb to Sherri Platt’s funeral and bringing him home.”

“And that matters why?”

“Mr. Cobb doesn’t live in the best neighborhood.”

“Well then, it seems we’re all set here.”

The call went silent. The beach, Lincoln’s Cole’s early retirement, was very close, so close he could almost feel the sand against the soles of his feet.

CHAPTER 39

Sherri Platt’s funeral was tragic in every way. It was the second funeral in as many months Julie had attended for a person who left this world well before their time. Sherri’s family and friends spoke eloquently of a woman with a kind heart who loved helping others and loved being a nurse. The pews of the small Congregational church in Melrose were full of mourners, and the tears flowed freely. Many of Sherri’s colleagues had come to pay their respects, but Julie was most impressed to see Roman Janowski, White’s CEO, there as well. He spoke with Julie before the service.

“How are you holding up? It must have been such a shock to make that horrible discovery,” Roman said.

“It was, and I’m doing all right. Thank you for asking.”

“If you need time off, we’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry there.”

“Thank you, Roman. But I’m glad to be at work. Honestly, I need the distraction.”

“Please, call me Romey. All my friends do.”

“Romey it is.”

Julie thought about sharing her concerns over possible Kounis syndrome in patients at White, but knew better than to go to Roman without absolute proof. Dr. Coffey would certainly call foul, accuse Julie of harassment, and while she wanted answers, Julie also wanted to keep her job.

“You’re a wonderful doctor, Julie,” Romey said. “Just know that we’re here for you in any way you need. You’ve been through an awful lot these past few months.”

Roman gave Julie a quick embrace and she realized they were about the same height. He always seemed taller to her, perhaps because of how he carried himself.

During the service, Jordan Cobb sat in solemn silence beside Julie. He looked handsome in his dark suit, but from the way he shifted in his seat, Julie could tell Jordan was more comfortable in a pair of scrubs. The service had deeply moved him and after the final eulogy Jordan wiped tears from his eyes. Julie was touched by his emotion, but she was crying as well. The service brought back disturbing memories of a cat with bloody paws, of Sherri’s collapsed skull and inert body on a blood-soaked bathroom floor, of those chilling words (For Brandon Stahl) crudely scrawled on the mirror in red lipstick.

Therapy had helped Julie deal with her divorce, but she questioned if anything could get her over the gruesome discovery and the guilt that had followed. Julie kept telling herself, if only she had not pushed for answers, Sherri Platt might be alive. The guilt reminded her of a phrase she uttered constantly in her head after Sam’s accident.

If only …

The afternoon service ended after five and Julie made the drive to Dorchester in the dark. Even if Jordan owned a car, Julie would still have offered to drive him to the service. They were both connected to Sherri Platt through Brandon Stahl and it felt fitting to be together on this solemn day. The world outside her car windows seemed to have slowed. Thanksgiving was on Thursday, and the coming holiday might have tamed the city’s typical kinetic energy. Paul would be joining Julie, Trevor, Julie’s mom, and a few other friends and relatives for a Thanksgiving meal at her Cambridge home. Julie was grateful her divorce was amicable so she and Paul could share holidays together, but it was still a solo effort and there was much to prepare. Julie was way behind schedule.

Julie and Jordan’s talk of the funeral turned to talk of their fledgling investigation.

Jordan said, “You still think Colchester had Sherri killed to keep her quiet about lying on the witness stand?”